Burial Ground
by MySwanSong
Summary: Sometimes fate has a way of catching up to us when we least expect it. Neville Longbottom thought his life was perfect just the way it was: Boring and predictable. But then fate kicked him in the balls and ran away laughing.


**Rating:** R  
**Summary:** Sometimes fate has a way of catching up to us when we least expect it. Neville Longbottom thought his life was perfect just the way it was: Boring and predictable. But then fate kicked him in the balls and ran away laughing.  
**Warnings:** Rape scenes (later), violence, excessive swearing, talk of drug use/murder/rape, possible murder scene (later), possible SLASH in later chapters

**Disclaimer:** Not my characters, no harm done, no money made. All characters are owned by the great JKR.

* * *

**Burial Ground**

**Chapter 1. Just A Taste**

* * *

He glanced down at his list: 

_  
Milk  
yoghurt- yoplait, strawberry  
Bread- wheat  
Cola- 2 packs  
Paper cups and plates  
cat food- friskies  
_

'Milk, check. Yoghurt, check. Bread, nope.' he thought to himself as he slowly guided the metal cart with his elbows down the aisle. _'Goddamn it, why can't you just buy white bread? You like it more anyway. Idiot...'_

_'What are you doing, boy? The white stuff is going to mess up your intestines! You'll get constipation, Neville!'_

_'But Gran, I-'_

_'Are you talking back?'_

He shook his head and automatically reached for the wheat bread. Better to stick to the healthy stuff.

It was a hot Saturday morning and there was a 4 chance of rain according to the weatherman with the toupee on channel five. There wasn't a cloud in the bright blue sky, and the sun was baking everything beneath it to a lovely orange tan, that is everything except Neville Longbottom himself, as it only made him turn red. Slightly frowning for a moment, he reached into his pocket for a pen. In rather sloppy handwriting he wrote _'suntan lotion'_ under _'cat food- friskies.'_

Neville was unusually happy this particular Saturday. Unusually so because, he had been fired from his job at the ice cream/fish-fry restaurant on Thursday, and not to mention that pretty blonde girl he met at the bar last Monday hadn't called him back. Under ordinary circumstances he would have probably been pulling his hair out by now and taking long steamy baths while listening to old love songs on his record player, but not today. Today Neville was free. He had no job, no girlfriend, and was a week behind in the rent on his apartment. But why should he care, because he was free...

_'What are you sitting on you caboose for, boy? Get up and do something! Everyday is a new day!'_

Sighing, he reached into the glass-door coolers and pulled out a pack of coca-cola. As he reached for the last cartoon he saw out of the corner of his eye another man reaching for it, too. Because he liked being polite to people he leaned back and let the other person get it.

"Thanks." the guy said, a six-pack under his other arm and what looked like a fraternity tattoo on his shoulder.

"Any time." Neville replied with a small grin as he pushed his cart elsewhere.

Nothing , not even the faint memory of his Gran, could bother him today, he thought.

But fate does have a way of catching up with us when we least expect it.

* * *

Neville stood in the entryway and shifted the paper bags in his arms. Something was wrong. When he had left the front door had been locked, but when he walked down the hall towards it the thing had been half way open. There was no sign of forced entry, though, but it still worried him. He set the bags down with a crackle and quietly walked into the house. He peeked around the corner, but everything looked normal. The couch wasn't overturned, the television wasn't busted in, nor where the cookies he had set on the racks to cool eaten. Everything looked as normal as ever, except the odd feeling he had wouldn't go away. 

He closed the entrance door and proceeded down the small hallway towards his bedroom. The door was still firmly closed, as it should be, but wrongness seemed to radiate from under the door. Slowly he leaned till his ear was against the crack of the door. All was silent. Very slowly he turned the knob of the door. Still nothing moved. Still moving slowly he opened the door a crack and looked inside. He couldn't really catch a glimpse of anything except the edge of his bed, which seemed to be alright.

Deciding that now is better then never, he opened the door and was surprised at what he saw. Nothing was out of order.

"What the..." He mumbled as he walked into the center of the room.

His bed was still made; the sheets weren't ruffled at all. None of his clothes drawers were opened or overturned, as he had expected them to be. Turning, he glanced into his closet and saw that everything was as it should be.

_'Paranoid freak...'_ He briefly thought.

Then his attention turned to the bathroom door. What ever _it_ was must be in there.

He took a large gulp of air and stiffly walked towards the bathroom door. He stopped in front of it, heart racing in his ears, and shoved it open to find-

nothing was out of place. The toilet lid was still closed, the faucet was turned off, his toothbrush was still in it's holder, and the medicine cabinet was closed.

He turned around to walk back into his bedroom when he saw the man standing in the doorway. Neville only had time to register that he didn't know the guy and there was a wand in his hand. Then all went black.


End file.
